


Superheroes and Symphony Swelled Hearts

by enjolraes



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Teen Wolf, Teen Wolf AU, Unfinished, i don't know why, i mean laura is alive So, its kind of an au, sterek, they live in maine, this is for soph btw okay bye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolraes/pseuds/enjolraes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles's eyes flashed. "It's like the Batmobile in here, dude, sweet." <br/>	Derek smiled in spite of himself. "I don't do superheroes."<br/>	Stiles's gaze quickly locked on Derek's, a smirk spreading across his full lips. "Yeah? Then who do you do?"<br/>	"Not pale, sarcastic, freckled boys, that's for sure," Derek whispered, and Cora gasped from the backseat. He blushed; he had forgotten her and Lydia were still there. <br/>	"Is that like a general rule, or...?" Stiles grinned unabashedly, and Derek felt the shame creep over him like scalding sunlight. <br/>	"Yes," Derek answered firmly, putting the car into gear and staring Stiles down. "General rule." <br/>	"Bunny-teethed, overprotective brother Derek who wears a leather jacket," Stiles repeated coyly, his eyes burning into Derek's. "You seem like quite the rulebreaker to me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superheroes and Symphony Swelled Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> the hales are dead. most of them, anyways: derek, peter, cora, and laura aren't. they moved to maine to start over after the fire, and derek, in the midst of hating himself for kate, meets this annoying sarcastic freckled boy with fingers that could stop a clock and permanent sex hair and eyes like whiskey that doesn't get him drunk like stiles does.

It was raining. That downpour, thunderous, type of rain; the rain that made you feel like you were drowning out at sea when you just stepped outside for two seconds, drenching you down to the core. Derek stared out of the car window, watching as dripping trees whizzed by them, because Peter was whipping down the roads about five times faster than the speed limit allowed.   
His clothes felt foreign on him, as if they had been stretched out and torn and then sewn back together and thrown haphazardly on his body. There was a black hoodie laid across his lap instead of his familiar leather jacket that smelled like the woods and reeked of campfire smoke. Cora had thrown it in the backseat and cracked the window, telling him to let it air out in a voice that was small and very unlike her usual drawl.   
The roads were curved and unpredictable, filled with rocks and potholes that showed up right as you were least expecting them. Peter began to cuss under his breath, quiet enough that it would be undetectable, but both Derek and Cora were used to picking up his imperceptible whispers. Derek turned his head, looking in the backseat at his little sister, who was curled up in the fetal position, her forehead against the window. She looked, in a word, powerless, which was not something usually used to describe Cora.   
"We're almost there," Peter said tonelessly, and neither Hale sibling acknowledged he had opened his mouth at all. The rain started up again, heavier than before.   
Five minutes passed, and Derek's Camaro that Peter had assumed control over purred to a halt in front of a large, sprawling house with white pillars and a wrap-around porch, a threatening wooden door that seemed to guard the place.  
"Are you sure?" Cora asked, uncertainty creeping through her voice. "I mean, this just looks... big," she finished lamely.  
"Yes," Peter answered heavily.   
The three of them grabbed the duffel bags that had been squished in the trunk, and Cora handed Derek's leather jacket to him without a word. Derek looked at it awkwardly in his hand, and then shrugged it over his shoulders.   
"Are you sure about this?" Derek echoed to his uncle, who was walking guardedly up the endless green lawn. "I mean, she's not going to be happy to see you, Peter."  
Peter just exhaled through his nose, his fingers clenching tightly in the fist that didn't have the duffel bag's handle in it. "Despite all the family rumors you may have heard at your mother's funeral, Derek, Laura and I are close as can be."  
Derek shook his head as Cora rang the doorbell and then walked backwards to where him and Peter were standing. He could tell that she felt awkward standing in so much open space without having claws out to defend herself. Peter had made Cora promise to behave herself around Max, Laura's boyfriend. "He doesn't know," Peter had said early in their trip, back when they were still forcing conversations that couldn't come. "So, Cora, no surprises, please."  
The heavy door swing open, and Derek's breath caught in his throat. The piercing green gaze he knew so well was finally staring him back in the face instead of just lighting up his mind. His oldest sister was here, in person, in front of him. Cora's usually rolled eyes were full of tears as she reached forward and buried herself in Laura's chest.   
Laura kissed her younger sister on the head and smoothed her left hand over Cora's hair. Derek saw a flash of a diamond on her ring finger and raised an eyebrow, but felt something flutter excitedly inside his stomach.   
"Hi," Peter said loudly. "Laura, sweetie-"  
"Hello, Peter," Laura answered coldly, her eyes narrowing. They flicked over and landed on Derek instead, and she reached out an arm. Derek strode forward and pulled her heavily into his broad chest, feeling tears well up in his own eyes. "Hi, Der," she said quietly, pulling him closer. "I missed you both so much. Come in!" Laura pulled the door open. "Max isn't here right now, but I'll show you around and get you set up in your bedrooms."  
"Do I get my own?" Cora asked, excitement flooding through her voice as she grabbed the straps of her backpack.   
"Of course!" Laura exclaimed, pointing at the grand double staircase in front of them. "Third one on the left, Cor."  
She pointed upstairs at Peter, too, who opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it before he could.   
Laura turned to face Derek, cupping his cheeks in her hands. "Hi, sweetheart," she whispered, hugging him again. "I am so sorry, Derek."   
"It's your family, too," Derek was able to choke out as she buried her face in his chest again.   
"I know," Laura murmured, "but I haven't been home in a long, long time, baby. And now, I'll never get to go home again."  
Derek swallowed hard as he followed Laura into the living room, which was bigger than the entire downstairs at their house in Beacon Hills. He settled down on the red sofa, grabbing a fluffy pillow and set it on his lap, as if it was a shield of some sort. He glanced over at Laura, who grabbed three crystal glasses from a cupboard resting against the ground, and pouring some sort of amber liquid into them. She walked back over, handing him a glass. "It's whiskey," she warned him, as the burn of alcohol gushed down his throat. "I know, not your favorite, but it's something."   
"No," Derek said darkly, throwing back the rest of what was in the glass. "It's perfect for right now."  
Laura gazed at him, her red lips pursed and a perfect eyebrow raised. "How you holdin' up, babe?"   
Derek looked over at his older sister, swallowing hard. "Not that great, I bet," Laura said, her long fingernails tapping against her glass. "But none of this was your fault."   
Derek wanted to argue, but he could feel himself slipping into darkness as he closed his eyes. Before he fell asleep, the fire crackling around his childhood home seared itself into the back of his eyelids. 

***

A while later, Derek opened his eyes in a panic, his arms and legs flailing madly.   
"Derek?" Cora asked, striding over to him. Derek grabbed onto his little sister, who had changed into sweatpants and a tank top, her makeup gone, her hair in top of her head. The bleached streak that their mother had hated so much was still stubbornly there a stark contrast with the rich auburn waves that cascaded down her back. Derek took a deep breath, sitting up.  
"I'm sorry," he muttered, letting go of her arm.   
"No, it's fine," Cora answered, offering him her hand. "C'mon, get up. Laura made dinner, and Max is here. He's cool," she added. "Really cool. Did you know his family owns this huge business up here?"  
"No," Derek said, rubbing his tired eyes. "That's neat, though, Cor."   
They walked into the brightly lit kitchen, Cora flitting over to the table, where mashed potatoes and garlic green beans were resting, hot under plastic wrap. Derek sat down, picked up his fork, and slowly began to place green bean after green bean in his mouth.   
"There's chicken, too," Laura called over to him from the oven, which seemed like a million miles away from the table. This house was massive.   
"I'm fine," Derek murmured, twirling his fork in his fingers. He looked down at his food again, bile rising in his throat. "I don't want any."  
Laura's eyes quickly snapped to his, and Derek swallowed, downing a sip of water. "That whiskey wasn't such a hot idea," she said lightly, as Cora looked over at him concernedly. "I doubt Peter fed you guys very well on the trip here, and if you don't have food in your stomach, alcohol is not smart."  
Derek nodded, sneaking a glance at Cora, who was now shoveling food into her mouth as if nothing had happened. "Where's Uncle Peter?" she said through a mouthful of potatoes.  
"Swallow, Cora Elizabeth," Laura warned sharply, walking over to them with a glass of red wine grasped in between her red talons. Lipstick stained the rim, almost exactly matching the color of the liquid. "He's with Max in the armory. Go check it out. It's pretty cool; Max's grandfather fought in the war and brought weapons home."  
Cora snorted. "Guns are no match for fangs and claws," she said, but ran out of the dining room and up the staircase with a bounce in her step.  
Laura sat down in Cora's place, her long hair brushing against the black blazer she had on. "She's resilient," Laura noticed to Derek, and he looked up.  
"Yeah. She's gonna surpass us all someday."  
"I don't doubt it," Laura said, gazing after their younger sister. "Derek..."   
Derek turned his head, eyes fixated firmly on the food in front of him that was churning his stomach. "It was horrible, Laura, and don't give me some bullshit that it wasn't my fault. Because it was. Mom's dead, our family is all dead, and it's because of me and some stupid crush I had on the wrong girl."  
Laura gazed at him. "So you fucked up," she answered finally, her raspy voice even and firm. "It still was not your fault, Derek. It wasn't," she repeated as he looked at her. "I know you, and you'd be blaming yourself even if this was the doings of Justin Bieber or an alien from Jupiter. Kate Argent is a piece of shit. This is her fault, her fault for taking advantage of a boy who was way too sweet to her because he has a heart of solid gold. You fucked up, sure, but Mom dying, our brothers and sisters dying, that wasn't on you."  
Derek shook his head. "I should have known," he whispered, voice cracking over the words. "I'd heard stories of how double crossing she was. In high school, she was the head cheerleader and ruined the entire lacrosse team."  
"I remember," Laura answered darkly, taking another hefty sip of Cabernet. "She used to call me Red Riding Slut because I had those god-awful red streaks in my hair and always wore red lipstick. She thought she was so clever. And she was awful, to her friends, even. Marissa Goldstein used to cry in the bathroom every day after Kate got to her. God."  
"Why did I fall for her?" Derek moaned, covering his face with his hands, pressing on his eyelids so hard that stars exploded there. "I'm so stupid."  
"Because you see the good in people, Derek," Laura whispered, reaching over to stroke his face, just like when they were little and he couldn't sleep. Derek closed his eyes again, trying to blink away the image of the burning Hale house that was embedded in his flesh. "This wasn't your fault," she whispered again, and Derek finally believed her.

***

A week and a half later, Derek and Cora had somewhat adjusted to Max's huge house, the rainy, cold coast of Maine, and the dynamic in Laura's new home. It was giant, but it was simple, and Derek easily fell into the old pattern the Hale family had established years ago. Peter was still treated coldly by Laura, who was holding the grudge of Derek's failures over his head, but with each passing day, he was treated less and less like an outsider and more like the witty, sarcastic Peter Hale that he once was.  
The death of their family had hit them all hard, but Cora had recovered quickly. Resilient, as Laura had said: she was bouncing around the house, helping Max clean the weapons and Laura cook dinner every night, but Derek could hear for the first three nights how Cora sobbed. She was loud at first, quieter the second night, and by the third, Derek could hardly hear her crying.   
Derek, however, did not bounce back as easily as his sister did, and spent every night wallowing in bitterness and self hatred. No matter what Laura tried to convince him of, Derek still blamed himself for trusting his girlfriend, Kate, who had led the assassination of his family and home by arson.   
He had known for years that the Argents were bloodthirsty, especially when it came to the Hales. There was more than just that though: they were hunters where the Hales were werewolves, the taboo subject in Maine that was practically expected of those in Beacon Hills. Yet when Derek met Kate, there was some sort of undeniable chemistry between them two. She was out of high school for two years when Derek started his senior year, and was attending the community college that was only a few miles away from the Hales' house. Kate had been in Laura's grade, two behind Peter, but the two had always clashed. When Derek brought up that he had befriended Kate Argent to Laura over Skype, she promptly hung up on him, When he told her a few weeks later that they were dating, she refused to speak to him for almost a month. She was stubborn, Laura, and held grudges for years.   
But before long, right before the tragedy, Laura called Derek and they made up, although any mention of Kate was not allowed. Two months later, she killed the majority of their family. Laura didn't come back to Beacon Hills for the funeral, but called Peter and told him there was no way in hell they were staying there. A few days later, Peter told Derek and Cora to pack everything they had salvaged or bought, (which wasn't much) and they got in the Camaro that Derek had paid for with his own money. They drove from California all the way to Maine, where Laura and her boyfriend Max were living.  
The house, it had turned out, was massive, and Max was C.E.O. of Schuyler Indisturies, where Laura was working. She had promised to get Derek a job, and Max easily agreed. He was to start on Tuesday.   
Cora was enrolled at Arolla Point Academy, which was a prestigious school that Max had attended. He promised Cora that the kids were great and the classes pushed you hard, but not too hard that you were overwhelmed. Cora, who was in the running for valedictorian of her class at BHHS, eagerly agreed.   
"My friend Tom Martin's daughter Lydia is a junior like you," Max had told Cora one night at dinner. "She's smart, that one. She'll give you a run for your money, Cora."   
Meanwhile, Laura had forced Derek to get some rest, which he had been avoiding since the death of their family. Peter had downed the rest of Max and Laura's extensive alcohol supply, after which he whispered to Derek, "Just get some sleep instead. The nightmares will pass, and besides, this shit does nothing for you."   
Derek had glared at him, but listened when Laura offered up the same advice. "Seriously, honey, it feels better after sleeping some of the weight off. I swear."   
So Derek slept. Fleeting at first, he slowly sunk into a stupor that lasted for three days. He woke up Monday evening in time for dinner, and was surprised at how much of the shitty, guilty feeling had lifted off of his chest. He walked down the hallway and the sprawling double staircase to where his family and Max were eating dinner and watching Game of Thrones on the giant plasma screen television that Max had brought home from work and hung on the wall. "This house needs a proper TV," Max had declared, and Cora spent the last few days of her vacation curled up on the couch, binge-watching shows.   
"You get your first real job tomorrow," Cora said, through slurping her noodles. "How does that feel?"  
"Fine," Derek answered offhandedly. A pile of school supplies was laying next to his younger sister, from where "Cora Hale" was written in her familiar curly scrawl. "Where'd you get all that, Cor?"  
"Max took me today," She answered excitedly. "The Staples here is, like, three stories. It's so cool."  
"I bet," Derek murmured offhandedly. He stared at the TV and was startled when he actually saw the picture and not his old house in ashes, charred flesh staining the inside of his nostrils. 

***  
A month had passed, and Derek made his way into the glass elevator at the Schuyler building as girls in skirts giggled and eyed him up and down. He swallowed: his affect on women was common but unnecessary, in his opinion. Besides, he hadn't been able to look at a girl straight in the eyes since Kate (at least any girls who didn't have a first name that ended in A and the last name Hale, but they didn't count).   
He had been to the local Starbucks (by local, he meant 25 minutes out of the way, damn you Maine) about four times now, mostly with Laura, and the cute male barista had flirted with him shamelessly.   
"Give him your number, idiot," Laura had scolded as they slid back into her Mustang after the third time.   
Derek just shrugged. "I'm not ready yet." And that was that.  
Now, his phone buzzed, this time with the third text from Cora. His friend Chris, who was the head of all security for Max, leaned over his shoulder. He was a bit older than Derek, with a grizzly beard and piercing blue eyes. "Who's Cora?"  
"My sister, Chris."  
Without skipping a beat, Chris sighed and stepped away. "Derek, I say this in all honesty and shame for a forty-five year old man to use this terminology, but-"  
"I need to get laid," Derek interrupted. "I know, I get it."  
His phone bleeped again, and Derek sighed and slid the button to unlock it. "Cora, I'm on my way, I swear, I just got held up at work."  
"Yeah, no, whatever," Cora blurted quickly. "Derek. Seriously. I have the perfect guy for you."  
Derek sighed so audibly that Chris shifted his eyes over to him concernedly. "Why are both you and Laura trying to get me into bed with someone. Cora, that is weird. How many times do I have to tell you that?"  
"Laura tries to get you laid," Cora argued, sounding offended. Derek could just picture her face; the way her nose crinkled up and her eyes narrowed as she tried and failed to look innocent. "I am seriously trying to make sure that you don't die alone. And Stiles is that chance."  
Derek smiled in spite of himself. "Okay, Cor, I'll be there in ten minutes."

***

Ten minutes slowly slipped into seventeen, and when Derek showed up at Cora's school, he could sense the jilted silence Cora would bestow onto him as she slipped into the Camaro. But Cora was laughing and smiling with a long redhead girl who had a smile through pursed lips, but her eyes lit up from within. They were with another boy, who Derek could only see the profile of, but goddamn if that wasn't a good profile. He had broad shoulders that were straining against his t-shirt, which was white and plain, and long fingers attached to the hands he was excitedly - if not spastically - waving everywhere. Cora was giggling, leaning against the girl with long red hair, and as Derek slowly got out of the car and walked closer, he could make out the boy's voice.  
It was husky, but squeaked every time he said something excitedly, and he had a slight lisp on his s's and r's. It was the kind if voice that Derek could hear whispering sweet nothings into his ear; the kind of voice you never got tired of.  
Whoa, Derek thought, slow down, there, sugar.  
He strode towards Cora, squinting into the sunset. It was only September, but there was already a bite to the air.   
"Derek!" she yelped excitedly, and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion: "excitedly" was not something that was usually used when describing Cora Hale. Calculating, maybe, or evenly, or most often, sarcastically, but never excitedly. "Meet my friends."  
Derek smiled fleetingly at the red haired girl. "Oh! You're Lydia Martin, right? I work with your father."   
Lydia pursed her lips, sizing Derek up. "Hi, sweetheart," she said finally, and Derek slid his gaze questioningly to Cora, who nodded. "We've heard much about you."  
Derek smiles nervously, shifting his eyes to Stiles.   
"Yeah," Stiles said offhandedly, "yeah, but I didn't think bunny-toothed, overprotective brother Derek would be wearing a leather jacket." He, too, looked Derek up and down and a small smile spread across his freckled face. "Juxtaposition. I like it."  
Derek stood there awkwardly as his heart thudded in his chest. "Come on, Cora," he said quickly, grabbing his little sister. "Laura's making dinner for us."  
"They're coming with," Cora answered, slinking an arm through Lydia's and giving Derek a shit-eating grin. "Laura already knows." She helped Lydia into the backseat and then slid in after her, and Stiles looked around like a lost puppy.  
"Am- Am I supposed to sit in the front seat?"  
Derek swallowed, angry at the butterflies that were rising in his stomach. It was a cute guy, so what. He had experience with cute guys in the pastel and he kept his cool then. What was happening? "Yeah," he said lowly.  
Stiles's eyes flashed. "It's like the Batmobile in here, dude, sweet."   
Derek smiled in spite of himself. "I don't do superheroes."  
Stiles's gaze quickly locked on Derek's, a smirk spreading across his full lips. "Yeah? Then who do you do?"  
"Not pale, sarcastic, freckled boys, that's for sure," Derek whispered, and Cora gasped from the backseat. He blushed; he had forgotten her and Lydia were still there.   
"Is that like a general rule, or...?" Stiles grinned unabashedly, and Derek felt the shame creep over him like scalding sunlight.   
"Yes," Derek answered firmly, putting the car into gear and staring Stiles down. "General rule."   
"Bunny-teethed, overprotective brother Derek who wears a leather jacket," Stiles repeated coyly, his eyes burning into Derek's. "You seem like quite the rulebreaker to me."


End file.
